


Coda

by liseraptorknight



Series: Catharsis [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends (Dark Horse Comics), Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic (Comic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anger, Dialogue Heavy, Diplomacy, Gen, Lucien Draay is a complicated character but he's still an asshole, Past Attempted Murder, Past Character Death, Trust Issues, a whole lot of issues actually, half assed apologies, or vauge attempts at, past trauma, vaguely attempted diplomacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 04:36:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7420021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liseraptorknight/pseuds/liseraptorknight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While en-route to peace talks between the Republic and Mandalore, Zayne receives a call from a man long assumed dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coda

It is important to refuse to be intimidated. That refusal must not be based simply on a calculation of the odds of succeeding. The refusal to be intimidated must come, in the end, not from a sureness of succeeding but from a knowledge of the cost of scurrying for shelter through fake retractions and disowned truths. It is a question, in the end of self-respect."

-Anna C. Salter

* * *

The call came over the intercom precisely two hours after lunch and exactly one half hour after Zayne stepped out of the fresher. “Ambassador Zayne Carrick to Briefing Room 5. Ambassador Zayne Carrick to Briefing Room 5.“

He found Admiral Onasai along with his newest comms officer staring the briefing room’s little holoprojector with equal parts confusion, mistrust, and, in the admiral’s case, disgust. “Ummmm,” said Zayne. “Did Mandalore cancel the talks or…”

“It’s not Mandalore,” said Onasai, wrinkling his nose. “It’s- Office Pavaa, can you explain?”

Pavaa readjusted her headset. “Well,” she said after a considerable pause. “Someone hailed us. Strange signal, oddly encrypted. Ops traced it to somewhere around Yavin. We’re still rather unclear on whether it’s… in orbit or one of the moons. Like someone really, really doesn’t want us tracing it. The caller identifies himself as the currently deceased Lucien Draay… I’m running confirmation checks. Yep. Facial recognition checks out, as does voice.

Zayne turned pale and leaned on the table. The admiral rested a hand on his shoulder. “I know Ambassador. This gotta be tough on you.”

Pavva shrugged one lekku over her shoulder. “Like I said, it checks out. Not the first time someone’s survived an intense orbital bombardment.” She paused, typing something into her pad and readjusting her headset. “Like all comms, this one will be recorded and monitored. Press the green button to start the call and the red to terminate. Expect… visual and audio distortions. It’s a weak signal and we’re piping it through ops.”

Zayne nodded and moved to sit at the head of the table, facing the projector. He barely heard the Pavaa talking into her headset and the door hissing shut. He was alone, in a dimly lit conference room. Alone except for the bright force signatures of everyone aboard the ship and the quiet woosh of air through the ducts. Even the persistent rumble of the engines seemed far away. He could always push the red button and Lucien would be none the wiser.

 _Click_.

“Hello Zayne,” said Lucien. “Or should I say Knight?”

Zayne stared at the man, or rather the tiny blue image of a man standing atop the table. It flickered and blurred. The voice, though small and distorted was unmistakeably that of Lucien Draay. It was deep and melodious with an air of both sophistication and willpower which haunted Zayne’s dreams and nightmares. The man, at least as far as a hazy image could show, wore a bandage around his eyes with twisted scars running out from beneath them. At least, he still maintained some aura of dignity, or was it pride.

“Ambassador, actually,” Zayne replied schooling his face into a well practiced blank.

Lucien chuckled, a deeply unnerving sound. “I figured you would leave the Order.”

“Let me guess,” Zayne interrupted, swallowing the bile in his throat. “The gauntlet. Color me surprised.”

Lucien sighed. He never quite tolerated Zayne’s propensity towards blunt sarcasm when irritated or angered. “This, this has been something weighing on my conscience for a long time.”

“You have one?” Zayne shot back.

“I know you have no reason to trust me, but this is something I have been avoiding for far too long.” The hologram rubbed its temples slowly. “Something I deem I owe you a thousand times over. I am truly and deeply sorry for the wrongs I committed and authorized against you. I-“

“Tell that to Shel,” Zayne spat. “Or Shay. Can you explain to both of them why their brother’s dead? Tell that to Kamlin’s family? No? How about Gharn’s? Or Oojoh’s? And while you’re at it, tell the Order. I feel like they’d be willing to forgive you for being part of a plot that ended with a nice bunch of them being slaughtered from orbit. Or, or- tell that to the Republic and all those dead people on Taris and Coruscant.”

“Zayne-“

“It’s been five years. Five fucking, force damned years you prick! Five fucking years too late.” Zayne jabbed finger at the hologram.

Lucien, thankfully, said nothing.

Zayne took a deep breath.

“Zayne. I- I made a rash decision.”

“It’s Ambassador to you, mate,” he spat at Lucien.

“Ambassador. I let fear control us. We saw death, our deaths and felt them. We believed there was some seed of discord among you. It was either Shad, the best of the lot and by far the proudest or you, Ambassador. You were the weakest of the five and the most well… prone to anger and outburst of emotion.”

“So this is our fault!” Zayne yelled. He felt someone out in the hall freeze, then walk on. “We trusted you, all of you! I’m the only one alive now Draay because of a little thing called murder. Must have been real inconvenient when you realized you were wrong, for the first time in your life because Force forbid a _Draay_ faces the consequences.”

Lucien’s shoulders bowed, he leaned against something out of the frame. “Carrick- Zayne- Ambassador I-“

“How’s it working out for you Dray?” He leaned closer to the projector and the comms unit. “They’re all dead too, died just the way they said they would. And you, you’ve still got all that blood on your hands.”

“I wish; I wish I stopped it. I should have thought twice. Now my four closest friends are dead. As for me, I will live the rest of my life in exile.” Lucien picked at the hem of his robe. “I thought I made the right decision.”

“Yeah.” Zayne snorted, flopping back into the chair. “It never really bothered you Dray. You were so sure the Force visions were infallible. Did your conscience bother you then, eh? When you so thoroughly disassembled my damn life? I mean, you were always right. I was the fallen jedi, the prodigal padawaan. If I died, well bye-bye witness. No consequences. Just the feeling that no one in the galaxy would ever catch you.”

Something white hot, bright as the heart of a sun lodged itself in Zayne’s chest. He felt it tear through the force like a shockwave, shattering glasses on the side table and slamming into the bulkheads. Chairs tipped. Lights dimmed with a screech. It was unfair, colossally unfair. This, this was rage, five years of pure concentrated rage burning and burning.

Lucien walked away into exile. He bought a moon. He didn’t have to stand at the memorial in Taris or watch the dedication with the families standing around quiet with grief. He didn’t have to hear Kamlin’s sister’s voice break and hitch as she stood at the podium talking about Kamlin. Her last message was a selfie; Kamlin sitting in the hallway with a plastic cup of bubble tea in one hand and the lights of Taris behind her. He didn’t see the way Shel went quiet when someone said Shad’s name or the way she just stared off into the distance. He didn’t see a blurry picture of Oojoh taped to the console of his grandfather’s freighter. He wasn’t there to watch Gharn’s mother pack every little trace of her son into cardboard boxes and he wasn’t there to help her carry them into the basement.  He wasn’t sitting on the steps of the temple blinking away ashes from a square full of funeral pyres while grief shattered and twisted through the Force.

One hand hovered over the comm. Just one red button and he’d never again see Lucien again or hear his voice. However, an ambassador’s first duty was not to himself, but to those who charged him to speak on their behalf.

Zayne put his hand on his lap. “You have anything else to say?” he inquired. “Some other apology or great revelation you’d like to share with the rest of the Galaxy. Maybe a… well formal apology to the families of Gharn, Oojoh, Kamlin, and Shad? Maybe you’d like to turn yourself over to the Order and the Senate and answer for the shit you pulled- oh and those investors your friendly neighborhood Sith ripped off.”

“I-“ Lucien began. “I-“

“‘I’ is not an apology,” Zayne growled. “This isn’t for me and it’s certaintly not for you; this is for the dead.”

“I formally apologize to the families of Shad Jelevan, Kamlin, Oojoh, and Gharn for the grief my decisions caused them. They have my deepest condolences and my sympathy. I cannot return your children or your family members to life, but they were- they were, truly extraordinary beings whose loss still rings in the Galaxy and the Force. I-“

“That’s good enough,” said Zayne. “I’ll tell Paava to send that part out to the families.”

“I see,” said Lucien blankly. “Anything else to add Ambassador? I suppose I can never ask for your forgiveness.”

Zayne took a deep breath. “I forgave you long ago. Before you get happy about that, lemme explain. I forgive you in the sense that there’s no fucking way to change what you did, so why even get angry. I’ve let go of that anger because my various therapists and psych doctors told me to. It wasn’t healthy and, Force, just looking at you makes it come bubbling up again. I forgive you because you helped me defeat a Sith Lord and maybe realized what a dense little prick you were, but I never want you back in my fucking life and I never want to see you again- ever. That clear Draay?”

“Yes,” said Lucien quietly. “It’s clear. Zayne-“

“Don’t call me that.”

“ _Ambassador._ I understand. I’m not even sure I can even fully forgive myself.”

The man looked smaller and older. Zayne couldn’t quite reconcile his last memory of the man pressing a button on a Sith artifact with the man bent nearly double in a tiny, tiny hologram.

Lucien spoke, slowly. “Well, Zayne- Ambassador, take care of yourself. Live a good life. Don’t live one like mine. Promise me you’ll be the better man. It’s all I can hope for now, that at least something good and just came out of this mess.”

Zayne swallowed, one finger resting lightly on the red button. “I already have, Draay. I already did.”

_Click._

He was alone, in an empty briefing room, a planet down below and the stars beyond. He stood, took a deep breath, and walked out the door.

 


End file.
